IR Day 13 - Lara's game

Back in the classroom, you push Ingrid out of your mind and focus on soccer. But focusing on what Tiff and the others are saying is trouble as well. Lara’s making some suggestions that are unusual. You can’t be sure, but is she trying to influence how you approach the next game? Is she trying to create opportunities for herself to grab MVP?

Now you’re paranoid. Another side effect of this dumbass rule.

After dinner, you do a yoga cooldown with Amelie and the team out on the grass outside the spa. It’s such a hot day that it’s not much of a cooldown, but you can cool off for real back at the cabin, where you go straight to the showers. You’re free for today. Not free to go find Ingrid and take her out on a date, but free to not be on camera, at least. They were filming you practicing, filming you eating, filming you in the classroom, and even filming the yoga.

At least you’re safe at the cabin. In your shower stall, you automatically reach between your legs. You better jerk off now so you don’t spend all night horny. You quickly get yourself hard, drawing on your memories with Ingrid… and on your imagination a little.

“Hey,” Lara says, startling you as she pokes her head into your stall.

You jump and look over your shoulder at her, irked.

“What?” you say.

“You don’t mind, do you? What I’m doing?”

Oh, so she’s admitting it.

“I just worry that we won’t win if we’re busy competing against each other,” you say honestly, taking your hand off your cock. You keep your back to her so she can’t see your erection.

“The better I play, the more we win,” she replies.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” you tell her.

“Well, if I don’t manage it, I like it when you lead. More time for me to look at that cute arse,” she says, blatantly looking at your butt.

“Leave,” you order.

She blows you a kiss and goes. You sigh. You don’t dislike Lara. She’s pretty, she’s a great athlete, she’s very skilled… she’s not stupid. She can be very sweet sometimes, but she’s also very entitled, somehow.

You dry off, put on some briefs and a tee and get into bed, where you text Ingrid for a while before lights out. As you get ready to sleep, you get one last text from Ingrid: she wishes you were there. That’s sweet. What’s she doing right now? She’s probably in bed too, and that gets your imagination going again. You sneakily reach for your bag and get a sock out, slipping it under the covers. You roll onto your side to take care of business, letting Ingrid run wild through your mind.

Memories of her and your little fantasies. You think about when you briefly made out with her today, and how you could have had sex up against the wall or something. You imagine holding up her damp leg, pushing inside her and looking into her eyes. Or kissing her, feeling your chest against hers.

You sigh and blow your load in the sock. Just like the old days.